


Child-Bearing Hips

by RoseByAnyOtherName (badxwolfxrising)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor has captured the Master, newly regenerated as a woman, and is determined to continue the bloodline of the Time Lords.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child-Bearing Hips

The Master awoke in a haze of regeneration sickness, very surprised to find himself alive. The gentle humming in the background confirmed that he was on board the TARDIS, the medbay specifically from the looks of the sterile environment. He had vague memories of Rassilon, the Doctor, the Time Lords, a battle of sorts… But something, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, wasn’t right. His head felt...well, weird. For the first time in as long as he could remember, it felt almost empty-there was no incessant beating of drums. But there were other things, things that were almost equally as distracting in their own right. For one, the overwhelming urge to weep with relief that he was somehow still alive, had survived and somehow escaped the time lock. It was a foreign feeling-the desire to cry. Crying was not something the Master made a habit of doing, couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had, really. Except… 

He looked down. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Well, those were new. He had breasts! Nice ones, too, from what he could tell. When he grabbed the fleshy globes, they filled his palms, and were firm-soft when he squeezed them, although they twinged a little bit when he did. Nice. He hadn’t had his hands on a pair of tits this choice since Lucy. Lucy… His poor, sweet wife. A fresh wave of sadness broke over him at the thought of her, at the thought of the things he had done to her… He realised that somehow, the overwhelming wave of melancholy and guilt was hormonal, but was still powerless to stop it. These hormones and feelings were new, unfamiliar to him. He wondered vaguely if he’d been drugged, but the chemicals didn’t feel foreign per se...just different. 

Trailing thin, lady-like fingers down the smooth, taut surface of his pale abdomen, he lifted the hem of the simple medical shift he was wearing to take a peek at what was between his legs. Dark blonde curls. A beauty mark. Absolutely no meat or two veg. Pale, slim thighs. He was definitely not a he anymore. He was very decidedly a she this time around. 

The Master finally burst into tears, sinking back against her pillow with the sudden onset of emotional fatigue. She was alive...but she was a she. And evidently a prisoner of the Doctor, if she was on the TARDIS, her own being long lost to her. It seemed he would get to make good on his promise to look after her after all.

Well, she certainly had no intentions of making it easy for him. Ignoring the way her vision swam when she got out of the bed, she made her way to the door of the small isolation cubicle the Doctor had her confined in. She was disappointed, but not surprised to find it locked. Taking stock of the room around her, her heart sank when she realised the Doctor was just as clever as ever. The room was empty of everything but the bed, a small end table and a chair. She knew well enough that glass of the isolation chamber was virtually indestructible, so there would be no use trying to hurl the furniture at it in her already weakened state. Instead, she peered at her new reflection in the glass, the face staring back at her pale and drawn, but not unattractive. Her new face was soft and youthful, in contrast to the ancient, depthless eyes she saw staring back at her. She quirked when she noticed that one of them was a pale teal blue, while the other was a shade of lavender that would’ve made even Liz Taylor envious. 

And where exactly had that thought even come from? With the impulse for war and the sound of drums gone, were these the sort of inane ruminations she could come to expect? She frowned, running a finger down her new aquiline nose, traced the outline of lips that were much fuller than they’d ever been when she’d been a man. Her hair, dark blonde and wavy, fell past her shoulders and was just long enough that the ends tickled softly against her nipples when she walked. It was not an altogether unpleasant sensation actually, she mused, shrugging out of the nondescript shift and knickers she was dressed in. She scrutinized her naked reflection with a sigh-she was a bit shorter than she’d have liked, though she supposed she was of average height for a female. The breasts were fantastic, as already noted, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased when she ran her hands over the definitive hourglass curves of her torso; the tiny little waist, the wide, generous hips. 

“Child-bearing hips, you could even say,” a voice whispered, piercing the relative silence. The Master gasped, turning to look behind her. She didn’t recognize the body, but the darkness in both the eyes and the tone of voice told her all she needed to know: this was the Doctor. So she wasn’t the only one who had regenerated since their last meeting. 

“How nice of you to notice,” she said in a voice that was surprisingly throaty, narrowing her eyes at him. “Not as though it matters, being as you and I are mortal enemies. Or were enemies. I found since I’ve awoken, my desire to kill you in elaborate and painful ways is strangely diminished. And the sound of drums is gone. Oh, also I appear to have become a woman, too. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about any of that, would you?” 

“Enemies? How can we be enemies? We’re the last two Time Lords in existence, at least for now. Rassilon and all the others who were driven insane in the war have been sent back to the time lock to face the Moment, and you, somehow, survived. And I found you. I mean, no one was more shocked than me to get a Gallifreyan distress signal from a rock in the middle of nowhere in the Andromeda galaxy. I was wary, of course-you see, something like that happened to me before and it ended up just being a trap where an evil disembodied consciousness named House was just trying to kill me and steal the TARDIS by putting her consciousness into the body of a woman. It didn’t work...but you know….caution. I’ve developed a modicum of it since losing everything I thought I had all over again. But yes...imagine my surprise when that distress signal wasn’t only real...it was from you. Newly regenerated...and female. It was like a sign from the Universe. The last of the Time Lords doesn’t have to be the last any more,” the Doctor said softly.

The Master felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The child-bearing hips remark made sense now. She understood what the Doctor was planning to do.

“No. No, absolutely not. I’d rather feed Davros the kidneys from my living body than do what I think you’re suggesting,” she said emphatically. 

An amused look crossed the Doctor’s face, and he reached into the pocket of his suit to withdraw a pair of handcuffs. “A bit melodramatic, but I thought you might say that. That’s why I brought these. Belonged to my late wife, bless her. I held onto them mostly for sentimental reasons, but you know...they do serve a purpose,” he said, a hint of menace in his tone. “I don’t necessarily want to use them, mind you, but I think we both know that you can’t be trusted. Besides...we have responsibilities. Responsibilities to the Universe. This is our duty. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to force your hand to do what was right.”

Quick as lightning, the Doctor moved to pin the Master to the bed. She tried to fight him, but the Doctor was surprisingly strong, even in that skinny body. Not as skinny as his previous body had been, but still fairly slim, and apparently all muscle underneath. He easily overpowered the Master, slapping one of the cuffs to her left wrist and the other to the bedpost behind her. With a trace of both revulsion and arousal, she realised she could feel him growing stiff through his clothing against the bare skin of her belly while they struggled against each other.

“Oh no, now what’s that?” she asked coyly, snaking her free hand in between their thrashing bodies to grasp his erection through his trousers. The Doctor went completely stock still for a moment before he shoved himself back off of her and off of the bed, red-faced. “Looks like the Doctor likes it when they struggle after all…”

“Shut up, shut up!” the Doctor shouted, advancing on her with a raised hand. She waited, unflinching, for him to strike her, but the blow never came. He just stood there, panting, arm raised in impotent rage. The Master laughed, which had a strangely calming effect on the Doctor. He dropped his arm back to his side, and regarded her coldly.

“There’s no use trying to put up a facade with me, Doctor. I know you, remember? I know just how sick and twisted you really are, I know the darkness that runs through you because it’s the same darkness that runs through me,” the Master said, leaning back on her elbows.

“In no sense is it the same. I’ve tried to repent...to make good the bad I’ve done...that I had to do, without choice. And this..this is part of it. I can’t live forever. There has to be someone else...someone to make sure they’re safe after I’ve gone,” the Doctor said, his gaze going momentarily glassy. He finally looked back at the Master. “If that means I have to use you to ensure that happens...so be it.”

“You’re forgetting that as a female of the species, I do have the ability to control whether or not I conceive. Which I won’t, to spite you. So you might as well save your time,” the Master said nastily.

The Doctor smiled, but there was no joy in it. He chuckled mirthlessly. “I thought you’d say that, too. But face it, old friend...you’re weak. Too weak to keep me out of you...in more ways than one,” the Doctor said, running his hand up the Master’s leg, pausing when he reached the apex of her thighs. His fingers stroked softly along her labia before moving to circle around her clit. “I suppose it could be worse...you could’ve been stuck with a face like the Rani’s. Still...you’re within the first few hours of your regeneration cycle. You’re the most fertile you’ll ever be right now, and I intend to use that to my...to our advantage. It is our advantage, whether you realise that now or not. This is just all too perfect to have been an accident. I had gotten so used to the idea of being the last...this is certainly going to be an adjustment.”

“So that’s it then?” the Master said flatly, ignoring the flush creeping up her cheeks.. “You’re going to rape and forcibly impregnate me under the guise of continuing our species. Don’t I get a say in this? What if I were one of your precious humans? What then?”

“Do you have to say it like that? Rape...such a dirty word. Besides...seems like you like this well enough,” the Doctor said conversationally, flicking his index finger against her clit. 

The Master sucked in her breath, her hips twitching involuntarily as the Doctor increased the pressure he was placing on the tiny bundle of nerves. No wonder it had made Lucy gasp and twitch when he’d done that to her! The Master was loathe to admit that she enjoyed it, though. She’d die before giving the Doctor the satisfaction. Instead, she batted his hand away and shot him a dirty look.

“That’s not how you reproduce the mechanical way,” she said, hating how shaky her voice sounded leaving her lips.

“So it isn’t. But I won’t lie...I love to see you squirm. It’s so unusual to see you like this...so helpless,” the Doctor said, pinching one of the Master’s nipples between his fingers and twisting until it had stood up into a stiff little peak. “This is a really nice body you’ve got...I’m a bit jealous, actually. Never been a woman myself, always wondered what it’d feel like from a scientific perspective. So let’s find out. Go on...touch yourself.”

“You want me...you want me to wank?” the Master asked, incredulous.

“Was that part not implicit?” the Doctor asked, his eyes almost black. His fingers moved up to his neck, where he began to loosen his bow tie. “Yes, I want you to wank. I have no desire for foreplay here honestly, and I doubt you do, either. So do it. You’ve got a brand new body...go on and explore it.”

His tone begged no argument. The Master stared back at him in defiance, unmoving. After a few more moments, when she’d made no motions to do it herself, the Doctor grabbed her free hand by the wrist and guided it between her legs.

“Do it,” he said again, softly, dangerously, grinding the delicate bones of the Master’s wrist in his iron grip.

“Can’t wank with a broken wrist,” she spat at him, but the Doctor released her and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at her expectantly, and face burning with shame, she closed her eyes and began to do to herself the things she remembered Lucy had enjoyed him doing to her when he’d been a man. 

Admittedly, she would’ve liked having use of both hands (escape being a primary reason), but she supposed she’d make due. Slipping two fingers between her folds, she thrust her fingers down and inwards, spreading what little natural moisture she had back up. She cracked an eye open to peer at the Doctor, who was watching her intently as he unbuttoned his shirt. 

“You’re not exactly helping to set the mood,” she hissed at him angrily. 

The corner of his mouth quirked, just slightly. This was like a game of cat and mouse to him. “Would you like me to lower the lights, maybe put on a little mood music?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped at him crossly. 

“I know what you meant. Now back to the task at hand,” he said. “At hand. Get it?” 

The Master didn’t acknowledge him, just shut her eyes and tried to think of arousing things. Which was difficult, given she’d never been a woman before. Sighing, she stroked her index finger along her entrance and tried to remember what it had felt like to fuck Lucy. Given she’d had that experience as a man though, it failed to inspire her new lady brain chemistry. She slid two of her fingers inside and curled them in a come-hither motion, keeping her thumb firmly pressed against her clit as she rocked against her hand. An unfamiliar but not altogether unpleasant warmth was building up in the pit of her stomach. Beside her, she could hear the Doctor’s breathing pick up. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he was standing beside the bed naked, stroking his cock. His quite thick and lengthy cock, she couldn’t help but notice. Of course. He would be hung, the smug son of a bitch. 

This time, when she closed her eyes, she imagined the Doctor plunging that enormous cock in and out of her. This image was much more appealing than her former self fucking Lucy for some reason. Ignoring the cramp developing in her hand, she increased the pace and pressure of her working fingers. With a gasp, she felt the warmth in her belly begin to grow from a flame to full-blown fire, exploding within her and spreading out to leave her lower half shaking. 

“What’s it like?” the Doctor asked languidly, pumping his cock as he watched her. 

“Like riding a roller coaster,” she panted. 

“Really?” he asked, pausing. 

“No, of course not really,” she snapped. “If you’re so eager to know, why don’t you become a woman yourself? I’ll help kill you now if you’re interested in the regeneration genderswap program.”

“Maybe next time,” he said lightly, crawling onto the bed and moving to straddle her hips. Wasting no time, he thrust deep into her already soaking-wet pussy with a deep moan, which the Master echoed in turn. “Oh wow...you’re tight. Really tight.”

“Yeah well, don’t think this model’s been broken in,” the Master gasped wryly in response, lifting her lips and locking her ankles behind the Doctor’s back. 

She was relieved that he didn’t attempt a connection of their minds, which would’ve been the ultimate sort of intrusion. She could feel him there, lurking but not entreating entrance, which was fine by her. He was right, of course-she wasn’t strong enough to fight him, and she was glad that she didn’t have to, at least not in her mind. Truthfully, she also had no real idea how to keep him from impregnating her, not if he was set on it. She didn’t quite have the grasp on this anatomy that she had on the male form she’d had in every other sodding regeneration ever since the beginning of time. Instead, she tried to remove herself from the sensations of what was happening, settling back into her mind and observing the events unfolding the same way you might watch a film. A very disturbing film.

The Doctor was pounding against her cervix like a jackhammer, his cock branding her with over a thousand years of his pent up anger and rage. The Master had one clear thought, clear as a bell in her mind as she felt the Doctor tense above her.

“No, wait!” she gasped. “You can’t...you can’t be angry.”

The Doctor grunted in frustration, faltering for a moment. “Why the hell not? Why can’t I be angry that there’s no one left but us and that’s the only reason why we’re doing this right now? River died before we could even try...”

“Don’t be stupid. You know as well as I do that a child conceived in anger goes on to live in anger’s shadow. You can’t be angry. You have to calm down,” she pleaded, suddenly flooded with a maternal fear for what would become of the child of two psychopaths. When the Master was the one acting as voice of reason...well, there was no reason left. Obviously.

“Too late,” the Doctor gasped, emptying himself into her. When his body had finished spasming, he rolled off of her and to his feet by the side of the bed. Wordlessly, he turned to go.

By the time the Doctor had reached the door, the sound of drums had returned to the Master’s head. This time though, she knew exactly who had put it inside of her.

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid,” she said glumly, pressing a hand to her abdomen.


End file.
